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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24992593">Juliet O'Hara is Completely Fine</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/shuuuliet/pseuds/shuuuliet'>shuuuliet</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Psych (TV 2006)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Action/Adventure, Angst, F/M, Romance, but several scenes are exclusively mine, most of the dialogue comes from the ep, poor pining jules</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 03:21:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,434</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24992593</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/shuuuliet/pseuds/shuuuliet</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"Shawn Takes a Shot in the Dark", but make it 9000 words about Juliet's emotional journey.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Juliet O'Hara/Shawn Spencer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A/N: Much as I wished I owned any part of Psych, alas, I do not. The characters, plot sequence, belong to Steve Franks and other Psych-affiliates.</p><p>Juliet O’Hara was not going to lose it today. </p><p>Although, she had to admit, things were not off to a good start. She was an early riser, but it was four-thirty in the morning, way too early for even the biggest morning person, and besides, she’d accidentally stayed up too late last night catching up on The Bachelor, her guilty pleasure, so she wasn’t exactly awake when Gus called, and she wasn’t exactly thrilled to have been pulled out of her warm, comfy bed to come down to a darkened truck yard in the middle of the night—well, morning. But it felt like the middle of the night. </p><p>She and Carlton got out of the car and jogged toward Gus, who was standing alone in the middle of the yard. Alone, that was odd. Although, knowing Shawn, he’d be just as game to pop out from some ridiculous hiding spot and startle them all when they were barely awake as he would be at any other hour. </p><p>“Gus!” Juliet called as she and Carlton approached him, “We got down here as soon as we could, are you alright?” </p><p>Still no Shawn, Juliet noticed, which was still odd, but for all she knew, he could be doing a silent “wait for iiiiit” just out of sight before he made his surprise appearance. </p><p>“You two better have a very good reason for dragging me out of my bed and down here to nowheresville at four-thirty in the morning,” growled Carlton, who had either not noticed Shawn’s absence or was annoyed in advance at his inevitable grand entrance. He paused, and confusion played on his face for a half second. “Where the hell is Spencer?”</p><p>“Your guess is as good as mine,” replied Gus, with a little shake of his head. Now that she was close to him, Juliet could see the worry etched in his forehead. That, combined with the fact that he was clearly still in his pajamas, alarmed her a little. </p><p>“If I wanted to make guesses,” Carlton said testily, “I would go on a game show. What the hell is going on?”</p><p>“Look, all I know is he left me this message about an hour ago,” Gus said, holding up his phone to playback his voicemail. </p><p>Shawn’s voice rang out from the phone, sounding delighted as he always did when he’d had some kind of psychic episode or epiphany. “Buddy!” Voicemail Shawn exclaimed, “I figured it out! It’s sweet! The whole thing was just a rehearsal. I’m leaving my place. Meet me down at the storage yard now. Come in your fireman pjs if you have to. Just be there.”</p><p>Almost before the message ended, Juliet couldn’t contain herself anymore. “What does that mean, rehearsal?” she asked, wishing more than ever that Shawn really was just waiting to jump out and explain himself. </p><p>“I have no idea.” Gus answered, and the alarm bells began to ring a little more loudly in Juliet’s head. She didn’t understand; there were way too many missing pieces in Shawn’s voicemail, and even if there weren’t, every second that passed in his absence made her somehow even more sure that something was amiss. If Shawn was still close by, he’d missed his cue, which was unlike him, and if he wasn’t, there was no doubt that he was in some kind of trouble. First, because nothing good ever happened at this hour, and second, it was Shawn, and whatever he’d gotten himself into was more than likely bigger than him. </p><p>Juliet took a deep breath and began to look around at her surroundings. The storage yard was shadowy in the early morning, and it was hard to tell if something had transpired here recently. Just as she was about to step away, Gus’s phone sounded. “Wait,” he said. “This just came in from Shawn.”</p><p>“Read it.” Juliet commanded instantly. She could hear the desperation in her own voice, but couldn’t bring herself to care. </p><p>“I have no idea what this means.” Gus said, frowning in confusion at his phone. “Trunk yelrfx ocone pol peac sig.” </p><p>“What is that?” Juliet asked softly, more to herself than to anyone else. </p><p>“It’s gibberish.” Carlton chimed in from next to her. He was right, of course. None of the words Gus had said made any sense. Had Shawn suffered a head injury or something? It was unlike him to leave them without a clue. Well, Juliet supposed he hadn’t exactly left them without a clue, as the gibberish was clearly meant to tell them something, but how could he expect them to interpret it when the words weren’t even words? Juliet sighed, wracking her brain for any direction these words could point in.</p><p>“Wait,” said Gus suddenly, “there’s more.” It momentarily occurred to Juliet that if Shawn were here, he would’ve taken that moment to make a Billy Mays joke. It was a half-second reprieve for her brain to think about the joke Shawn would have made, but it was also disturbing how quickly her mind had gone there. Shawn was clearly rubbing off on her; perhaps she’d tell him so if they ever figured out where the heck he was. </p><p>Gus’s voice jolted her back to reality as he read the next message, “binshot not lol.”</p><p>“What is he talking about?” Juliet mused, shaking her head. The messages from Shawn were making her feel worse, not better, and there was a knot beginning to form in her stomach. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong, really wrong. </p><p>“Binshot…binshot…binshot…binshot,” Gus repeated to himself, clearly as unnerved as Juliet felt. </p><p>A few feet behind him, Juliet watched her partner crouch down, his eyes catching something on the ground. Carlton dipped his finger into a tiny pool of something in the dirt. “What are you playing with over there?” she asked, praying silently that he’d just somehow uncovered their first lead. </p><p>Gus, for his part, was continuing to repeat “binshot” over and over to himself, but Juliet tuned him out as she focused on Carlton. The moment before he turned to look at her felt like an eternity, but when he made eye contact, she found no comfort in his eyes. “It’s blood.” He said gravely. </p><p>“Bin…shot,” Gus repeated again, stretching out the words this time. Juliet wasn’t sure whether he’d even heard Carlton speak. </p><p>Suddenly, a look of pure terror flashed across Gus’s face. “Oh my God,” he said, and Juliet looked at him, already horrified by whatever conclusion he must have just reached. “Shawn’s been shot.”</p><p>Immediately, Juliet felt her stomach drop and her heart begin to race. Shawn couldn’t have been shot, Shawn was Shawn. But then again, Shawn was Shawn, which was exactly how she knew Gus was right. She didn’t speak immediately—she was fighting for breath as it was, she couldn’t even attempt to fight for words yet—but her head was racing. Images of Shawn bleeding, dying somewhere as he’d sent that message to Gus flashed through her mind, even as she struggled against them. Of course his previous text message hadn’t made any sense, how much effort must it have taken to muster the strength for sending a message when he was laying there dying? </p><p>Oh, God. What if Shawn was really dying? There were so many things she had never said to him, even though she wanted to. There were so many moments they’d gotten so close to having, that she’d hoped they one day would. Shawn’s visits were the highlights of her days at the station. Even though he’d been a little more distant lately since he started dating Abigail, he was still one of her best friends in the world, and even just being around him with his jokes and his teasing made her feel somehow safe. How could the world ever feel right again if he wasn’t in it?</p><p>“Pull yourself together, O’Hara,” Juliet commanded herself silently, trying to shake off the moment of panic. Shawn was not dying; he couldn’t be dying. They were going to find him, and he was going to be okay. </p><p>Lassiter cleared his throat. “There’s not much blood here,” he said, “that’s a good sign for Spencer.” Even Carlton’s voice sounded a little uneven, Juliet noticed. Of course, he’d never admit being truly concerned about Shawn, but he was clearly shaken too. </p><p>A moment passed in silence, each of them in their own world. Then Carlton sprang into action, which Juliet had never been more grateful for, as her own head was spinning so fast she couldn’t think straight. “O’Hara, get the chief on the phone and call for more backup.” Carlton commanded her. “I’ll start taking a look at the blood patterns and see what I can come up with. Guster, you—” he trailed off. Gus was still looking at his phone, clearly still shell-shocked. “You take the time you need,” Carlton finished lamely. It was a small kindness, a sign of his unwitting concern for Shawn, and it would’ve made Juliet smile if she hadn’t been so petrified.</p><p>“We’re going to find him, Gus. He’s going to be okay.” She said, doing her best to sound like she believed it as she patted Gus on the shoulder. </p><p>The next fifteen minutes were a blur. After Juliet called Chief Vick and explained the situation to her, doing her best to sound calm, and rational, and professional, though perhaps those were the three most opposite words to how she was actually feeling, she’d tried to talk to Gus a little more, to help convince him—and herself—of Shawn’s safety and maybe get a little more information out of him, but Gus wasn’t any help. She couldn’t blame him. She still felt dizzy, and she couldn’t stop the frantic thoughts swirling in her mind, conjuring up images of Shawn, bloody and wasting away somewhere, while simultaneously the things she’d never gotten to express to him taunted her. Finally, the chief arrived on the scene, along with several officers in black-and-whites, and Juliet turned away from Gus, reminding herself that she was a cop, and even if Shawn weren’t, well, whatever he was to her, she had a duty to do her best work to solve this case.</p><p>Carlton called out to her and Gus, motioning them towards where he was standing with another officer, next to another small pool on the ground. “Alright, based on the blood patterns and marks on the ground, he was shot here and dragged this way,” Carlton explained, leading Juliet and Gus along the marks in the dirt he’d finished laying out only a moment before. Juliet felt sick to her stomach looking at it, but forced herself to pay attention. It might be the only way to figure out where Shawn had gone. </p><p>“The blood trail ends here,” Carlton continued, pausing a short distance away. “We couldn’t get any usable tread marks, but these swirls in the gravel indicate kickback from a car pulling out of here at a high rate of speed.” </p><p>Juliet didn’t say anything as he spoke, trying to process it. “We recovered a single shell casing.” He said. “Shooter used a .45 auto.” Juliet nodded slowly. One shell casing was a good sign, he’d probably only been shot once. Well, it wasn’t actually a good sign, getting shot at all was pretty clearly not a good sign, but it did make his chances better than if the shooter had fired at him multiple times. </p><p>Suddenly a car door slammed, and Juliet turned to see Shawn’s father walking towards them, his face set in a determined grimace. “Who the hell called him down here?” Carlton demanded.</p><p>“I did.” Gus said defensively. “It’s his father.”</p><p>“Which is exactly why I don’t want him here!” Carlton exclaimed darkly, turning on Gus. “If Shawn really is shot, there’ll be no room for family in the investigation.”</p><p>“If Shawn has been shot, there’s no room I’m not going to bust open to find my son,” Henry interjected firmly, anger flashing in his eyes. “You got it?”</p><p>“Henry, please.” Lassiter said.</p><p>“Carlton,” Juliet warned. “This thing may get personal, we might need him.” She stared at her partner, willing him to look away first. It was already personal for her. They needed all the help they could get, and despite the sometimes-deeply-strained relationship between Shawn and his father, few people knew how to read Shawn even half as clearly as his father did. Maybe Henry could find the key to this whole thing. </p><p>Carlton sighed, giving in. “We do this, we do this my way, no questions.” He said pointedly. Henry shrugged in response. Carlton turned back to Juliet and Gus. “Spencer will ride with me, we’ll chase the breadcrumbs to find Shawn. O’Hara, you take Guster, retrace Shawn’s steps in whatever ridiculous investigation he got himself into.” </p><p>Juliet nodded. A task was good. She could focus on a task, take things one step at a time. This was how she could help Shawn. This was how she could keep her head clear.</p><p>“We’ve got a lot of ground to cover; let’s go.” Carlton said, already stalking away, Henry following closely behind. “Move out!” He called over his shoulder as he and Henry got into the car.</p><p>Juliet took a deep breath. It was time to begin. She turned to Gus. “Okay Gus, think hard,” she said, trying not to allow her voice to convey any of the panic she was feeling. “What brought Shawn down here?” This was how they would do it, she reassured herself, as she waited for Gus to answer. Gus had to know something, after all. It just needed to be triggered. She would find it, and then they would find him. </p><p>Gus looked at her, shaking his head, his mind still clearly clouded by worry and confusion. “Uh, all I know is this whole thing started a few days ago.” He said. “With the ice cream truck on the highway.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A/N: I still wish I owned Psych. I still don’t. </p><p>As they drove back to the station, Gus explained the events of the last few days, the ice cream truck and how Shawn had sensed that someone had tampered with it, and the visit to Garth Longmoor. Juliet tried to force herself to pay attention, to glean what she could about the case from what Gus was saying, even though she desperately wanted Gus to speed up the story. Every second they wasted could be a second closer to Shawn succumbing to his gunshot wound, or—she didn’t want to think about it, reminding herself that they’d only found one shell casing--wounds. Every second was a second that they couldn’t get back, and what if when they found him, they were just a few seconds too late? She’d never be able to live with herself if that happened. </p><p>She forced herself to take things slowly. Of course she was worried about Shawn, but that wouldn’t help him now. In order to find out what happened to him, she couldn’t lose her head. She had to think logically, rationally, like she would on any other case.</p><p>“Okay, so Shawn figured out what, exactly, from this venture?” she asked, as Gus finished talking. </p><p>“He was still convinced that the truck had been tampered with, but he was going to need a different psychic tactic if he was going to get any real answers,” Gus explained. </p><p>Juliet looked thoughtful. This was something. She couldn’t understand what the lead was yet, but she could fill in the gaps sometimes where Shawn could not, because she had something he didn’t—authority. Even though Shawn could certainly command a room much better than she could (something she was often envious of when she was running briefings—Shawn would interrupt in the middle, make a single sound, and all eyes were on him, whereas she struggled to maintain the interest of the room almost the entire time), there were some places that flashing a badge went a lot further than pure charisma. </p><p>She held up her badge to Gus, trying not to look proud. “Or,” she said to him, “maybe just one of these.” She gave him half a smile. “Let’s go see this Garth Longmoor.”</p><p>As they entered the shop, Juliet thought once again of Shawn’s charisma, the way people were instantly drawn to him like a magnet. She wished he was there. But of course, if he had been, they probably wouldn’t be at the mechanic’s in the first place, unless it was to make an arrest. Still, she could channel some of his energy—now she was the one thinking in pseudo-psychic lingo—and she could get something from this visit. </p><p>She felt the eyes on her as she explained who she was and asked for Garth Longmoor. He wasn’t there. He’d quit. Juliet felt her stomach drop again like it had that morning, but she forced herself not to lose hope. Just because their person of interest wasn’t there didn’t mean there wasn’t still helpful information to be gathered. </p><p>“Did he give a reason for quitting?” She asked. There was a missing piece here. There just had to be. And she could find it. For him.</p><p>“Judging by the car he pulled away in, maybe he won the lottery,” the mechanic responded, wiping the grease from his hands. </p><p>“What kind of car was he driving?” Gus asked.</p><p>“’70 yellow Road Runner,” the mechanic replied. </p><p>Juliet was impressed. Her brothers had been super into cars growing up, and since she was constantly hoping to impress them, she’d tagged along with every interest they’d had, learning along with them. A ’70 Road Runner was certainly nothing to sneeze at. Gus clearly didn’t share her brothers’ passion for cars, though, and looked confused. “Is that supposed to be a nice car?” he asked. </p><p>Juliet looked at him, surprised. Gus always knew something about everything. It was odd that he wouldn’t know this. Seeing the expressions on Juliet and the mechanic’s faces, he shrugged. “What? Don’t look at me, I drive an Echo.”</p><p>That was a fair point. Juliet tuned out for a minute as the conversation turned to Gus’ pajamas. Gus’ confusion about cars aside, knowing the color and model of the car was a good lead. It wasn’t like you saw a 1970 Road Runner every day, so that car could be just the key they needed to finding Shawn. They had to get an APB out on it as soon as possible. </p><p>She slipped back into the conversation just as the mechanic told them Longmoor had left with his MIG gun. </p><p>“He had a gun?” Gus cried, alarmed.</p><p>Wow, Gus really hadn’t ever taken an interest in cars or mechanics. “No, no, no,” she corrected him quickly, “it’s not a gun, it’s a MIG gun. It’s used for welding.” With that, she thanked the mechanic and pulled Gus away, feeling a slight spring in her step. They had a lead. They were one step closer to Shawn. And therefore, one step closer to her feeling like she could breathe again. </p><p>As it turned out, her hope was short-lived. The only record that turned up of Longmoor in the police database was that he was dead—and long dead, for that matter. Clearly, “Garth Longmoor” was an alias, and that made it much harder to find out who could own the car that the mechanic had seen. She tried to remind herself that knowing the make, color, and year of the car was helpful information. It could still lead to Shawn. Maybe not as easily, but she couldn’t give up. He wouldn’t, if their roles were reversed. </p><p>Quickly, Juliet called Carlton. He and Henry had gone looking for Shawn, trying to follow the breadcrumbs of the text message Shawn had sent. Perhaps they had stumbled across “Garth Longmoor” or his car. For the first time that day, but not the last, Juliet heard words that simultaneously filled her with hope and terrified her. “We may have seen part of it.” Carlton responded, to her inquiry about the car.</p><p>Part of it. Part of it? What did that mean? Had there been an accident? Had the car broken down? Had Shawn been injured, again? Carlton didn’t volunteer any further information, and Juliet knew that it was because he didn’t have any. If they had any further indication that Shawn had been involved in some incident with the car, Carlton would have told her. Instead, he switched gears, telling her to send McNab to pick up his car so he and Henry could continue their search on foot, and Juliet held the phone away from her ear as he loudly warned of the consequences of Buzz causing any mishap in his precious new vehicle. She had no patience for Carlton’s obsession with his car. Not today. Today, there was another car that figured much more prominently in her mind. </p><p>Finally, Carlton finished. “Copy that,” she told him, as if she had any energy to care about his car. With that, they hung up. It was time for her and Gus to move on to the next thing. There had to be another piece of information somewhere. Shawn must have left something else behind. </p><p>As they got back in the car, she had an idea. “Gus,” she asked, “where has Shawn been living? Where did he call you from this morning?”</p><p>Gus looked thoughtful. “You know, that is a really good idea,” he said. “If we can see what Shawn was doing when he called me, it might help us figure out what he realized.” </p><p>“Let’s go check it out.” Juliet said. </p><p>Gus nodded, changing lanes to make a right at the next intersection. “You should know,” he said, “that Shawn has a habit of living in strange places.” </p><p>Juliet raised her eyebrow at him, but didn’t say anything, and he volunteered nothing further. Moments later, they pulled up to an old storefront that looked nothing like an apartment. Gus opened the door—unlocked, unsurprisingly, as this was Shawn’s place, after all—and they stepped inside.</p><p>It was not lost on Juliet that this was the first time she was in Shawn’s living space. She’d imagined it, of course, but never like this. Never to look for clues of an absent Shawn. “So this is where Shawn is living,” she thought out loud to Gus. “Odd that it takes him being shot and dragged away in a trunk for me to actually get an invitation.” She smiled slightly. Somehow making that small joke made things seem a little lighter, a little less dangerous. No wonder Shawn made jokes all the time. </p><p>“Technically, you don’t have an invitation,” Gus corrected. </p><p>“True,” Juliet agreed. Maybe the next time she was here, she would, if they could somehow manage to find Shawn. As she passed the front window of the store, she realized just how odd Shawn’s new place was. “This is the old Mee Mee’s Fluff ‘n’ Fold!” She exclaimed. </p><p>“Yep,” Gus said. “Shawn got a good deal on the rent.”</p><p>“Hmm, well, I hope so, it’s a dry cleaner’s,” she mused, half-distracted as she began shuffling through a stack of nearby mail. </p><p>“It’s kind of his thing,” Gus said. “Last spring, he stayed at the old Color Me Mine space. All those saucers you see here, he made.” Juliet smiled. There was something endearing about that, Shawn’s need for escape and adventure manifesting in such a harmless way. </p><p>“Besides,” Gus continued, “it has its advantages.” He pressed a button and the clothes rack left over from the suite’s previous proprietors began to rotate. </p><p>“What are you doing?” Juliet asked, alarmed. They were here to investigate, not mess with Shawn’s stuff. Plus, Gus had taken off his jacket now and appeared to be looking for a shirt to replace his firetruck pajamas. </p><p>“What?” Gus asked, defensively. “I’m not wearing these pajamas anymore.”</p><p>“So you’re stealing his clothes? He’s not dead!” Juliet exclaimed. She knew she was overreacting, but it was the only way. Shawn was alive, even though it had been hours since they’d heard from him. He had to be alive. And if telling Gus not to take his things somehow made her feel more secure in the fact that he was alive, then that was what she would do. </p><p>“I’m not stealing anything.” Gus replied indignantly. “Holy crap, half of these clothes are mine!” He grabbed a shirt off the rack. “This is my shirt!” Even as he did so, though, Juliet knew her inquiry had shaken him a little, reminded him of why they were really there. </p><p>“Okay,” she said, sensing they needed a distraction from the question of whether Shawn was still alive, “let’s split up and comb the place. Shawn was here when he left you the message about the rehearsal, so maybe there are some clues as to what he was doing, or what he was looking at that made him call you and drive down to that stockyard in the middle of the night.” </p><p>Juliet paused as she walked away from Gus, peering into Shawn’s bathroom. There were two toothbrushes on the counter, one pink and one blue. Scattered among the other effects on the counter were other items that didn’t seem to belong to Shawn. A pink bottle of lotion stood out in particular.</p><p>Oh, my God. Abigail. She’d forgotten all about Shawn’s girlfriend, somehow, in the midst of this. All day, she had focused so much on thinking about Shawn, praying he was alive and that they would make it to him in time, that she’d somehow forgotten he wasn’t hers. </p><p>“You see anything?” Gus called from another room.</p><p>“Yeah,” she said glumly, not registering the meaning of the question, “I mean, no.” She hesitated, not sure if she wanted the answer to the question that was nagging at her as she stared at the pink toothbrush. “Did Abigail move in?” she asked, hoping to sound nonchalant.</p><p>“What?” Gus sounded surprised. She couldn’t blame him; this had nothing to do with their investigation, after all. “No! This is Shawn, remember?”</p><p>“Right, right,” said Juliet, the knot in her stomach not relaxing even a little bit. “Well, has he been particularly aggressive about his hygiene?” she paused, noticing a dress slung over some kind of laundry-adjacent machine. The knot in her stomach tightened. “Or has he been cross-dressing lately?” It was a lame attempt at a joke, but she almost wished Gus would answer in the affirmative. Somehow that might appease her stomach a little. </p><p>Gus looked over to where she stood by the dress. “Oh,” he said, “no, no. I think they’ve officially reached the he-has-a-drawer, she-has-a-toothbrush stage.” </p><p>Juliet swallowed hard, nodding somberly. That was pretty serious, for Shawn. And even if she hadn’t seen Abigail around much lately, or heard about her from Shawn, things had to be going well for them to spend so many nights together. Abigail clearly had an open invitation to Shawn’s living space, whereas she was standing here only for the sake of an investigation. Her mind kept spinning dangerously. She wanted Shawn to be happy, of course. She thought of when she’d gone out with Cameron Luntz and Shawn had encouraged her, letting her go gently, even though she’d seen how it hurt him at the time. Clearly all of that was over, now. But didn’t she still owe him the same? Still, much as she wanted him to be happy, she couldn’t deny the way her heart was racing anxiously, or the knots in her stomach and throat that refused to loosen—all indicating that she wasn’t really okay with Shawn being with Abigail. And so she couldn’t resist probing Gus a little further, even though she knew he was oblivious. </p><p>“And how is that going?” she asked, fighting to keep her voice even, as though the answer she was expecting wouldn’t break her heart into a thousand pieces. </p><p>Gus was distracted, which she was grateful for. She knew she couldn’t help that her voice was coming out a little strangled, even with how hard she was working to control it. </p><p>“Not too sure.” Gus finally answered, which was simultaneously agonizing and a relief. If Gus wasn’t sure how serious Shawn and Abigail were, then it must not be that serious. After all, Shawn and Gus were closer than brothers. Surely he would know what was happening in Shawn’s life. But on the other hand, Gus’s nonchalance was a little unnerving. Maybe he didn’t know, maybe he didn’t care to know, but that didn’t necessarily mean Shawn wasn’t really serious about Abigail. </p><p>Juliet hated how her head was racing from Gus’s answer, which hadn’t even meant anything, for all she knew. She made a non-committal noise in response. She was relieved when he continued, “Hey, I think I found something.” </p><p>“What?” She asked. In an instant, her head cleared. Yes, Shawn being with Abigail upset her, but at the end of the day, this was still about Shawn, and they were still running out of time. Quickly, she crossed the room to Gus, eager to hear his explanation of the pamphlet he was holding. </p><p>As it turned out, Gus certainly had found something. It took a few minutes, and a look at Shawn’s computer history (she made a mental note to ask him about The Mentalist spoilers—didn’t a psychic like Shawn already know what would happen on the show every week?) it came together. The ice cream truck had been the rehearsal. Shawn, it appeared, had stumbled onto plans for an armored car theft. Like they’d suspected, this was something potentially much bigger than Shawn. With that in mind, she and Gus headed back to the station to try and find a way to follow this lead.</p>
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<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A/N: Believe it or not, Psych STILL isn’t mine.</p><p>Back at the station, it suddenly occurred to Juliet that she hadn’t eaten anything all day. She wasn’t hungry, and the knots in her stomach still made her not want food, but she knew she was no good to Shawn without any energy. She grabbed a muffin, bringing it over to her desk, just as McNab, who they’d asked to look for any potential deliveries that could be the theft Shawn was expecting, called out that he’d found something. </p><p>Juliet dropped the muffin on her desk and grabbed the schedule McNab had pulled up. Before she could get a good look at it, her phone rang. She gasped—the caller ID said “Shawn”!--and scrambled to grab it. </p><p>“Shawn!,” she cried. He was okay, please let him be okay, please let him be okay. </p><p>“This call…is to say goodbye,” Shawn said. His voice was even, but he dragged out each word, which was unlike him. </p><p>Juliet couldn’t process it. “Shawn, are you okay?” He was alive, that was something. But how hurt was he?</p><p>“Try and get anything, a location.” Gus urged her, just as flustered as she was. </p><p>“Shawn, where are you?” she asked, fearful of the answer.</p><p>“Don’t…don’t ask me any questions, ‘cause I can’t say anything else,” he replied, and his breathing was labored. She understood in that moment…someone was monitoring this phone call.</p><p>Shawn continued, “if you care about me, you’ll understand.” Juliet sank into her chair. He knew she cared about him, but there had to be something, something he could give her to help her find him. </p><p>“I’m listening,” she said. If there was a clue, hopefully he could get it to her. </p><p>“I’m not going to be able to have much of a future anymore,” Shawn said, and Juliet desperately told herself that this was part of a clue, that he wasn’t really dying, he couldn’t be dying. “But, if you look back, at where we were, I’ll be there, okay?” His voice was gentle, quiet, but she didn’t understand. </p><p>“Back?” She shook her head, pausing for a second, “I don’t understand what that means, Shawn, what are you talking about?”</p><p>“The windchimes that I got you for your birthday,” he paused. He was doing the same thing that he had before, annunciating each word, and she couldn’t tell if it was for emphasis or because he was having trouble breathing, but she prayed it was the former. “Every time you hear them from now on,” he paused again, “that’ll be me.” It still meant nothing to her, but he sounded so sincere that she knew it had to be critically important. </p><p>She took a deep breath. She didn’t know what he meant by any of it, she couldn’t help him. But she wanted to give him something to hold onto. “Okay, Shawn, first of all, you are going to be fine. We are going to find you, okay? Don’t worry.” She kept her voice confident, smooth, like she truly believed what she was saying. She needed him to believe it. Maybe if he did, he would keep fighting, buy them some more time. </p><p>She could hear someone talking behind Shawn, but it was too muffled to make out what they were saying. Then Shawn was back. “Listen, before—before I go, I have to say one more thing.” His voice sounded different somehow, and she wondered if whatever he was going to say would hold the key, be the most important part of the call. </p><p>“Of course, Shawn. What is it?” Whatever it was, she was ready. She would solve this clue and she would find him. She had to. This call was not going to be their goodbye, she wouldn’t let it. </p><p>“I-I need you to know that…” Shawn paused, hesitating, like he was deliberating what he was going to say. This only confirmed her theory that whatever it was had to be the most important. </p><p>“I love you.” He finished. He’d annunciated the words just as clearly as he had the rest of the call, there was no mistaking them. </p><p>For a moment, Juliet fought for breath just as she could hear Shawn doing. But she had to say something, had to respond to that bombshell before it was too late. </p><p>“Uh…” she said, a thousand thoughts running through her head at once. He loved her! She had known, of course, that his feelings matched hers, had seen it a thousand times on his face, but hearing him say it, that was different. But there was no time, no time to dwell on this and what it meant for her and for them, and after all, hadn’t he just said there was no future anymore? There was no time for thinking; she had to respond. In another second, the line could go dead. She took a deep breath. “Shawn, I think that I—." She paused for just a second, a moment of hesitation that would haunt her for weeks. She loved him. Of course she did. And even though it was hard to admit it to herself, she had known she loved him for a while. </p><p>The tension was thick as she hesitated. She could hear Shawn’s breathing, shaky and afraid. But just as she opened her mouth again to tell him she loved him too, he interjected. “Goodbye, Abigail.” He said. </p><p>The line went dead.</p><p>Juliet felt her heart sink while her brain struggled to catch up with what had just happened. Abigail? Shawn had known he called her, he had to have known—unless his injury was affecting his ability to think rationally, that is. But no, he’d been trying to give her clues. Clues that Abigail surely wouldn’t understand, not that she’d understood them either. So what did his declaration mean? Did he love her? Or did ending his call the way he had negate what he’d said?</p><p>And why, why hadn’t she told him she loved him back? She knew she did. She’d known it as they’d strolled down the boardwalk with ballpark franks that evening after the bank robbery, laughing together (he really did look good in that lighting). She’d known it as she faced him that night at the drive-in, settling for kissing his cheek instead of pulling him towards her and pressing her lips to his like she’d wanted to. She’d known it in Canada, as she painstakingly resisted reaching out to grab his hand on the romantic stroll that she knew wasn’t meant for her and yet that Shawn had still inexplicably taken her on, testing out the waters between them, perhaps. And she’d known it again, that morning, standing in Shawn’s home, looking at the dress that belonged to Abigail. </p><p>But they’d missed the moment. They’d missed it, and maybe that was good, because she couldn’t undergo the embarrassment she’d felt at the drive-in again, and what if she had told Shawn that she loved him, and he’d still called her Abigail afterward? She felt her cheeks flush at the thought. No, it was better this way. She loved him, and she had for a long time, and he was with Abigail. It was as simple, and as complicated, as that. </p><p>Quickly, she called Lassiter. “I just spoke to Shawn, he’s alive.” She said, feeling relief wash over her as she remembered that. “He—he—he was trying to give me clues about something,” she stumbled over her words, trying to remember the important details of the conversation and stop dwelling on the end of it. “I didn’t understand. None of it made sense.” She quickly relayed the details of the conversation, but to no avail. What little Shawn had said meant nothing to Carlton either, but in the background, she could hear Henry’s voice. Maybe, like she’d hoped that morning, Henry would be able to get a read on his son.</p><p>A moment later, Lassiter was back. “Juliet, can you make it back to the Mariposa exit off the 166? There’s a gas station two blocks up.”</p><p>Suddenly, it all clicked together in her mind. “Yes, yes!” She responded. “That’s right about where the robbery’s going to take place. I’ll explain when we get there.”</p><p>Juliet hung up, barely turning to Gus. “Let’s go,” she said. Seconds later, they were on their way, hopefully to Shawn.</p><p>Juliet tried not to panic as they drove. It had been just moments ago that she’d spoken to Shawn; hopefully he’d been able to keep holding on in that time. They arrived at the gas station at the same time as Carlton and Henry, and Juliet leapt from the Blueberry almost before it stopped moving. She and Carlton lead the way inside, guns drawn, but she quickly felt her stomach drop again. Shawn wasn’t inside. A man dressed in a mechanic’s uniform lay on the floor. He’d clearly been shot and was unconscious.</p><p>“Where’s Shawn?” Juliet asked desperately. They’d been so close. No one answered here, and she could see the panic written on everyone’s faces, doubtlessly matching the pain on her own.</p><p>“He can’t be far.” Carlton said eventually. “Let’s do this.” He led the way outside. “O’Hara, stay close. You know the drill.”</p><p>Juliet nodded, turning to Gus. “Keys,” she commanded, holding out her hand. </p><p>“Whoa, I’m not covered for someone else driving my car!” he protested. Juliet rolled her eyes. Between Gus and Lassiter, she’d heard about enough about the sanctity of one’s car today. </p><p>“I’m a police detective and a certified pursuit driver. I think you’ll be okay.” Juliet said, holding out her hand again for the keys. Both of those things were true, and she couldn’t deny that she was a little thrilled to be in the driver’s seat for the pursuit. Carlton never let her drive in these situations, despite her having just as many training hours as he did. Plus, being the driver felt like something tangible she could do for Shawn, not to mention the fact that Gus always drove as though he were ninety-eight years old and trying to balance two overfull coffee cups at the same time, and she was in no mood to be patient with him as he would no doubt attempt to pursue Shawn’s kidnappers at the agonizing clip of maybe forty miles an hour, assuming they didn’t dip into a school zone or anything. </p><p>“Keys.” She demanded again. Gus hesitated. “Gus?” she asked, again. Gus reluctantly handed them over. </p><p>Seconds later, they were back on the road, following Henry and Lassiter in Lassiter’s car. The minutes passed agonizingly, Juliet desperately trying to keep the panic in her head at bay, when Lassiter suddenly called her, yelling, “We’re right behind them! Stay close!,” before hanging up.</p><p>Sure enough, Juliet could see a red truck just ahead of Lassiter, a figure crouched in the truck bed. It looked like he was moving, but it was hard to tell with Lassiter’s car still in between them while she simultaneously tried to keep her eyes on the road. Suddenly, Shawn’s voice broke out in a yell, “Yeah! Go team!”</p><p>Relief flooded over Juliet. If he was alive enough to yell, they were going to make it. They were so close she could almost taste it. In a few minutes, they’d have Shawn back, and she wouldn’t have to worry for him anymore. She knew she wouldn’t feel quite at peace until then, and at Gus’ urging, she tried to make the car go faster, but alas, the Echo couldn’t match the speed of Lassiter’s precious new car.</p><p>Finally, they were able to pull up alongside the red truck, while Lassiter and Henry pulled up on the other side. Shawn was in the truck bed, his hands tied to the side of the car. Juliet was elated to see him. He was awake. He was alive! The terrifying images that had plagued her all day hadn’t come to fruition after all, thank God. As they approached, Shawn pulled himself free from the rope and stood up, not two feet from the hood of the Blueberry. </p><p>Juliet tried to strike an appropriate balance between keeping her eyes on the road and on the truck next to them, but all she wanted to do was look at Shawn, scan him for injuries and make sure he was truly okay. His first words were for Gus, though. “Woo!” he called. “Look at you, Buddy! You’re like Vin Diesel!”</p><p>“That makes Jules Michelle Rodriguez and you Paul Walker!” Gus called back. </p><p>“This is no good!” Shawn responded, and she glanced at him in alarm, seeing him clutching his shoulder. That must be where he’d been shot.</p><p>Gus was worried, too. “Don’t worry, Shawn! You’re going to be alright!,” he reassured his best friend. </p><p>“I know, I’ll be fine! I just really don’t want to be Paul Walker, not even for one day!” Juliet rolled her eyes, but it made her heart warm to hear them joking immediately. That meant Shawn really was okay, although she supposed he’d probably still be making jokes on his deathbed.</p><p>“You could be Lucas Black from Tokyo Drift,” Gus offered. “But then we wouldn’t be in the movie with you!”</p><p>Juliet wanted to throw her hands in the air. Could these two be serious for one second? She was trying to save Shawn’s life, here! Instead, she covered one ear so Gus wasn’t yelling directly into it. Maybe that would help her focus.</p><p>“That’s weird!” Shawn said. “I’ll just be Walker!” Then, a second later, “You ready, Buddy? I’m gonna jump on your hood!”</p><p>Juliet gasped. She wasn’t ready, and the car was in her control. If Shawn didn’t jump exactly right, she might kill him. </p><p>She should’ve known Gus would never allow it, and for the first time that day, she was grateful for his ridiculous attachment to the car. “You must be out of your damn mind, Shawn! It’s a company car!” he protested. “Jump on Lassiter’s!” he yelled, directly into Juliet’s ear again. </p><p>Shawn sighed, crossing the truck bed to the side nearest Lassiter’s car. She could hear him having the same argument with Carlton as he had with Gus only seconds before. Then, after a loud grunt, he leapt out of the truck bed. She heard him land, and it sounded miraculously as though he’d done so safely. Before she could dwell on it, though, the driver of the red car (somehow, in all of Shawn’s chaos, she’d nearly forgotten about him) picked up his gun and began firing, directly at her and Gus. They crouched back in their seats and Juliet fought to keep her eyes on the road, while intentionally swerving the vehicle to make their target more difficult to hit. </p><p>Despite her best efforts, one of his shots must have landed, and she could hear a bang as the front driver wheel deflated. The car quickly decelerated, but they kept driving, following the truck and Lassiter’s car at a pathetic crawl.</p><p>She could hear more shots firing up ahead, but was too far back to see what was happening. Both drivers appeared to be safe, though, as neither car was stopping, though Lassiter’s was now pulling ahead of the red truck—a good sign. </p><p>She watched from afar as Carlton swung his car around the front of the truck and both cars came to a stop. Carlton got out quickly and swung Shawn off the hood of the car, pulling him to shelter on the side of his car. Shawn’s kidnapper stuck his gun out the window, but Juliet didn’t hear any more shots. He must have run out of ammunition. A moment later, he dropped the gun on the ground. </p><p>As Carlton rushed to pull the suspect from the truck, Juliet watched Henry go to his son, who was stumbling around clutching his shoulder, clearly in a great deal of pain. Henry leaned Shawn against the side of the car before going to help Lassiter handcuff the suspect. </p><p>At long last, she and Gus pulled up behind the truck. Immediately, Gus ran to Shawn, and although Juliet wanted nothing more than to do the same, she knew it was her duty to assist Carlton. </p><p>Her duty as a cop didn’t stop her from telling Carlton that they needed to get Shawn to the hospital as soon as she was close enough to speak to him, though. She couldn’t help the fact that her first priority was Shawn. Lassiter nodded.</p><p>“Spencer?” He asked. </p><p>Both father and son responded, “Yeah?” in unison. </p><p>Lassiter rolled his eyes. “Henry, we’ve gotta get Shawn to the hospital,” he said. Henry nodded, his arm around his son.</p><p>Shawn, surprisingly, didn’t put up any protests, which worried Juliet a little bit. He was clearly struggling to remain standing. </p><p>“I’ll go too,” Gus said, looking worriedly at his best friend. Like Juliet, he knew that if Shawn was accepting medical treatment, he was really hurt. </p><p>“Gus, you stay. Get the Blueberry fixed.” Shawn said. He was breathing heavily, and the pain of speaking, now that his adrenaline rush was beginning to calm down, was etched on his face. Gus nodded. Driving on a flat was not a good move for his company car. </p><p>“O’Hara, you go with them. Take one of the black-and-whites that followed us. I’ll take him in and book him.” Lassiter said firmly—an order. He caught Juliet’s eye for a fraction of a second—if she blinked, she would have missed it—but it was enough. It was an understanding. He knew. He knew she needed to see for herself that Shawn was okay. It wasn’t often that Carlton deferred to her, and if she hadn’t been so worried about Shawn, she might’ve dwelt for a moment on how much this small allowance meant to her. But she had to go. Giving Carlton the tiniest nod in return, she turned to follow Henry and Shawn.</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A/N: The final chapter, and dang it, Psych still isn’t mine. The plot of this chapter is entirely of my own invention, though.</p><p>Henry helped Shawn into the backseat so he could lie down, then slid into the passenger seat next to Juliet. He didn’t say anything, but he looked older at that moment than Juliet had ever seen him. Wordlessly, she turned the sirens on. </p><p>Shawn was quiet in the car. Too quiet. It terrified Juliet. She’d known Shawn to be many things, but quiet wasn’t one of them. He must be in real pain. She kept glancing in the rearview mirror at him in the backseat, trying to communicate to him with her eyes that he was going to be okay, that she would stop at nothing to make sure he would be healed. But Shawn’s eyes stayed closed for most of the ride, his hand covering the makeshift duct tape bandage over his wound. </p><p>When they arrived at the hospital, Henry ran ahead to alert a friend he’d called on the way—an ER doctor—that they had arrived, leaving Juliet to help Shawn from the car. She slipped her arm around him, allowing him to lean on her as they made their way into the hospital. Neither of them spoke--Juliet, because there was too much to say, and Shawn, she suspected, because he was too busy gritting his teeth from pain.</p><p>“Juliet, this way!” Henry called as they entered. He was standing with a doctor. As they caught up to Henry and the doctor, Juliet released Shawn from under her arm, catching his hand as she did so. She squeezed it. “You’re going to be okay.” She said, looking at him.</p><p>He looked at her, his hazel eyes still bright amidst the pain and gave her half a smile, the best he could muster. He squeezed her hand back once and then broke off the contact, turning to the doctor. </p><p>“Alright, Doc. Let’s fix me up,” he said, trying to revert back to his typical cheerful self, but Juliet could hear that his voice was all wrong, warped from fighting so hard all day. </p><p>“I’ll wait here,” Juliet said to Henry, motioning to the waiting room behind them. “Let me know when you have an update.” Henry nodded. </p><p>The wait was agonizing. Juliet kept seeing Shawn’s face from the car ride in her mind. He had looked like the pain was unimaginable. Even though he’d joked with the doctor, it would be just like him to be hurting much worse than he’d let on, and the more time that passed without an update, the more afraid she felt for him. She’d thought they were out of the woods when Shawn had leapt from the truck, but maybe that had just been wishful thinking. After all, that jump was clearly done out of desperation. What if Shawn was even more hurt than they suspected?</p><p>Three hours and two cups of crappy hospital coffee later, Henry finally emerged back in the waiting room. Juliet stood as he approached, nervous that it had taken so long for an update. “Sorry to keep you waiting so long, Juliet.” Henry said. “His wound was deeper than we expected, and they’re worried about infection. They’re admitting him to keep an eye on things.”</p><p>“Oh, God.” Juliet said. “How is he?”</p><p>“Oh, he’ll be fine.” Henry said. “He’s already back to being his usual pain-in-the-ass, so that’s a good sign. He’s just in a lot of pain.”</p><p>“Well, getting shot is no walk in the park.” Juliet commented. “Is there anything that I can do?” </p><p>“They’ve given him something to help him sleep, but you can come see him now if you want,” Henry said. “I’m going to run down to the cafeteria and grab something to eat. It’s been a long day. You want anything?”</p><p>Juliet shook her head. “No, I should probably head back to the station, but I’ll stop in and see Shawn for a minute before I go. I just wanted to make sure he’s okay.”</p><p>Henry looked at her for a moment, something unreadable in his eyes, and then nodded. “Well, he’s right down the hall. Make a left when it forks, and then another left. Room 116.” </p><p>She smiled. “Thanks, Henry.” </p><p>Henry smiled back. “Nice of you to wait for him like this. Kid’s lucky to have you.”</p><p>He doesn’t have me, Juliet thought idly. Not really. He has Abigail, not me. But instead she smiled again at Henry, and the two went off in opposite directions. </p><p>By the time she reached his room, Shawn was asleep. He looked peaceful sleeping, his features relaxed and his endearing boyishness somehow more prominent. Juliet felt herself relax, too, as she looked at him. Shawn really was okay. </p><p>Without thinking about it, she’d reached out for his hand on the bed and held it in hers. She knew she couldn’t linger long, but something about holding his hand—just for a moment—made her feel more at peace than she had all day. They’d gotten to him in time, and he was going to be fine. She squeezed his hand, just once, like she had when they’d first arrived at the hospital, and felt Shawn’s fingers tighten around hers in his sleep. He muttered something unintelligible in his sleep and stirred. “I’m really glad you’re okay.” She whispered, more for herself than for Shawn, she supposed, since she knew he couldn’t hear her. The relief she felt in looking at him, in his warm hand in hers, was almost tangible. She felt tears form in her eyes, thinking about how close they had come to losing Shawn, and how important he truly was to her. Gently, she let his hand go.</p><p>She could have stood there much longer, but Henry would be back soon, and Gus would surely arrive any moment. Her heart clenched as she remembered that Abigail, too, was probably on her way. And besides, Juliet had work to do back at the station. She’d seen that Shawn was safe, and as much as she wanted to stay and tell him when he woke up just how happy she was that he was alive, that he was okay, she knew she had to go.</p><p>Glancing over her shoulder to make sure Henry hadn’t returned—she wasn’t ready for anyone to witness her vulnerability—she leaned down to press her lips to Shawn’s cheek, like she’d done the night he captured Mr. Yang. She wanted to linger there; his warm skin and the feel of his stubble under her lips felt like coming home. She knew she would be able to feel this kiss, their closeness, long after she pulled away, playing it over and over in her mind like she still did that night at the drive-in. </p><p>But, at long last, she did force herself to pull away. It was breaking her heart, to be that close to him and unable to stay. But he had Abigail. Abigail, who was surely the person he had meant that declaration of love for. Not her. </p><p>Just the thought of how Shawn’s voice had sounded on the phone, those words that had elated and destroyed her at the same time, made the tears forming in her eyes threaten to spill over, and she was doubly glad that Shawn was asleep. </p><p>Turning to leave, she was almost out the door when she heard Shawn’s voice, heavy from sleep. “Jules.” He said, gently.</p><p>She turned, and he was looking at her, squinting, but somehow intently, even from the other side of the room, and for a second it looked as though he had tears in his eyes as well. He said nothing for a minute. Neither did she. Then, wordlessly, he put his hand to his cheek, where her lips had pressed gently only a moment before. His eyes closed again. </p><p>Everything in her wanted to run back to him, to make him explain what was going through his mind, at this moment and today on the phone. But the fear that it had meant nothing struck her suddenly, again. He still had Abigail. And besides, she didn’t want to cry in front of him. She knew her heart couldn’t take another fracture. She had to pull herself together.</p><p>With that thought, and one final glance at Shawn, his eyes still closed and his hand still against his cheek, she turned back to the door. </p><p>Juliet O’Hara was not going to lose it. Not today.</p><p>A/N: Fin.</p>
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